Songs from within the Gilded Cage
by k4writer02
Summary: Kalasin was pregnant, but then she wasn't. Kaddar and Kalasin and their marriage cope with a crisis. Angsty. Please R & R KalasinKaddar, or Kallydar Part 3 of a trilogy
1. Chapter 1

Title: Songs from within the Gilded Cage Ch 1/4

Author: Kate

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.

Summary: Kalasin has news for Kaddar. A marriage faces its most serious tests to date via a pregnancy and a miscarriage. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar

Acknowledgments: I sincerely thank Rosie for her insightful beta-ing. She's a darling, who got this to me despite stress in her personal life. Doesn't she deserve a round of applause?

Chapter One

"My Lord? I must impart some news to you." Kalasin told her mirror. She made a face. No, that wasn't right. Too serious.

She tried again, "Kaddar, why don't you sit down? I want to talk to you about--," She contorted her face again. That was definitely wrong.

Kalasin rearranged her hair and pouted prettily. "Kaddar? Do you have a minute?" She murmured. She smiled, as though he had invited her to sit down. "I know everything has been a little awkward lately. But I'd like to talk to you." She sighed. Too needy.

"Goddess, give me the words," She whispered the prayer to the Great Mother.

Kalasin shook her head so that her long black hair tumbled around her face. She was afraid that letting her hair down in this way made her look like a child, but Kaddar liked it. He liked her hair long, her heels high, and her smile honest. She liked his face and head shaved smooth, his hands clean but callused (he almost never remembered to get all the dirt out from under his nails after working in the garden, even though Varice despairingly thought it looked like the Emperor was a peasant), and his rare, but open grin.

Kalasin stood up and pulled a light robe over her chemise. The robe was a deep rose-pink; the fabric crinkled and fluttered lightly whenever she moved. She tied a sash around her mid section, then consulted the mirror once more. She stood sideways, trying to detect an alteration in her figure; she looked the same, but she felt different. She nibbled her lips just enough to make them red, then shrugged. There was no way to tell how he would take this news.

She left her boudoir and entered a parlor. Her husband was sitting on a couch, meticulously updating his garden plan and bloom records. "Kaddar?" She smiled, a little nervous, a little excited.

He looked up at her and paused writing. "Yes?"

"I—um" She sighed, "Will you put that quill down? I want to tell you something." She wanted to scuff her foot. That wasn't how she wanted to begin.

Kaddar laid the feather on the book. He looked at her expectantly. Kalasin's speeches were always entertaining.

His wife perched at the opposite end of the couch. She twisted her hands together. "You know, how we've been, uh, trying, for the last few months?" The nineteen-year-old Empress was trying to strangle the panic welling in her belly. She was an adult, she was a married woman, and she was the Empress of Carthak. But Mithros, Minos, and Shakith, she wasn't convinced that she was ready for this.

Kaddar leaned forward expectantly, "Trying?"

"To make a baby." She rested her hands on her abdomen. "It worked. I think. I'm late, anyway, and so I talked to a healer, and even though it's a little too early to tell for sure, the spell to verify—,"

She had to stop talking when he carefully—so carefully, but so happily—took her hand and brought it to his lips. During their courtship, she had felt that that gesture was so intimate—he had a way of holding her fingers and looking into her eyes that made her feel she was being caressed all over. "You are?"

"I think so," She smiled tentatively. "Does this mean you're happy about it?"

He considered her expression carefully, then pulled back, "Of course I am. But are you happy?"

"Yes." She declared, after a deep breath, "And it kind of explains all the crying and the mood swings." She blushed. "I'm sorry for what I said last week, about the letters."

"Hey, hey, it's alright." He said, in a voice that was gentler than the tone he usually used to speak to her. Not that he was rude. Just distant. Formal. "I'm sorry too. I should have told you I was going to have the letters preserved."

"Next time, I guess." She smiled again, "I know we'll want to protect all the congratulations and advice that flies across the ocean."

"So how far along are you?" Kaddar asked. He stood up and crossed the room. He opened the door to their suite and spoke to the guard to order a pot of tea. He closed the door again and she answered.

"A month, maybe six weeks." She put a hand over her abdomen. "Nothing will show for another two or three months, though."

He nodded. "Are you comfortable?"

"Well, other than the time I bit your head off for taking my letters? And when I burst into tears because Varice served tangerines when I wanted oranges? I'm fine, but there are a lot of ups and downs."

He laughed. "I noticed that you've been a bit excitable lately." He said wryly. "If you want, I can ask my sisters to talk to you. Nadereh has three, you know, and Aaminah's expecting her first next month." (Neither of them knew then that Aaminah, the sister closest in age to Kaddar, was going to die in childbirth three weeks later.)

"I'd like that." She hesitated. "I guess your mother will have advice for me too?"

"Try to stop her." Kaddar confirmed.

Kalasin nodded. A pause filled the room. The mood became awkward, as Kaddar tried to think of something to say, and Kalasin realized how rare it was for them to simply be together, without work or hobbies to occupy them.

Kaddar walked toward the bedchamber they usually shared. "I can move my things to another chamber tomorrow."

"Do you have to?" Kalasin asked, not realizing how forlorn she sounded.

"I think it would be safer." Kaddar said. "Assassination attempts really might become more frequent now. Multiple targets decreases likelihood of success."

Kalasin sighed. "But making a change indicates that there's a reason to make us targets. We share quarters almost all the time. Even when we're traveling, and at our weakest."

Kaddar looked at his pretty young wife. Her sweet blue eyes—how were her eyes still so sweet?—met his own, "I get lonely without you next to me," Her sincerity left him shaken. She teased, "And I just got used to your snoring. You don't want me to have to retrain myself, do you?"

Kaddar smiled at his Empress. Truth to tell, he wasn't a fan of sleeping in a cold bed either. He'd done it the first evening after she confronted him about the letters, and he knew he had not passed a more wretched night since his marriage. Even the time he had the flu and the healers were unable to do anything for him, the night he lay on the floor of the privy and wondered if he had been poisoned, even that event paled in comparison to sleeping on the short lumpy couch, with Kalasin's tear-streaked face and angry words reverberating through his memory.

At the time, he'd wondered if it was her monthly courses, or simple shock—he'd found out about pirates and the orphanage during the interminable banquet, and then he'd really been unable to look at her. So of course, she had redoubled her efforts at charming the ambassador and Zaimid. Kaddar didn't trust the reproachful glances that the latter kept aiming at him. Maybe Kaddar would send his single, entirely-too-attractive cousin to the Copper Isles…

Kaddar nodded. "Since it means so much to you, I'll stay. On one condition."

She arched an inquisitive eyebrow. "I'm not naming this child after your mother."

He shook his head, "No, I was going to say, you have to swear to me that you'll be more careful. I know the jewelry is heavy, but it will protect you. You have to promise to wear it, night and day. And stay with your guard. I know it can feel like the walls are closing in, but ducking away from them isn't safe either."

"I'm not a frivolous child." Kalasin defended herself, "I need moments of freedom, Kaddar. I'm not a pretty songbird you can trap and keep for your personal pleasure."

"No, of course you're not. But you don't take danger seriously."

"That's not fair. It's true; I do refuse to cower in the corner. I choose to live, instead of allowing bullies and weak men to defeat me without a fight."

"No one's attacking your courage." He said, irritated. "I'm talking about brains."

Kalasin laughed, abruptly. "It's kind of nice that we know each other well enough to snipe at one another, isn't it?"

Kaddar shook his head, unable to pick at her any more. "Must you look at the bright side of everything?" He asked, amused in spite of himself.

"It's part of my winning disposition." Kalasin batted her eyes at him. She was almost giddy with relief that he was happy, with excitement for herself. She was having a _baby_.


	2. Chapter 2

Title: Songs from within the Gilded Cage Ch 2/4

Author: Kate

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.

Summary: Kalasin has news for Kaddar. A marriage faces its most serious tests to date via a pregnancy and a miscarriage. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar

Chapter Two

Kaddar sat on the lumpy couch where he had spent one uncomfortable night a few months ago. He anchored his elbows on his knees and dropped his face, the picture of despair. Kalasin was…was… Why had he allowed Zaimid to go to the Copper Isles? Would his cousin have been able to heal his wife?

Kaddar wanted to howl, wanted to rage, but gods above, he couldn't. If Kalasin, the woman who cried for people she didn't even know and for people who didn't even exist (she was a sucker for ballads about lost love) wasn't weeping, he had no right to. The Emperor relived the day, certain parts in a distorted slow motion, others zipping by so quickly he felt nauseous.

It began at breakfast. Kalasin was just beginning to show a slight bump, but she concealed it still with gowns. They'd been talking about when to write to their families, when to announce it to the court. There'd been succession anxiety, because Kaddar had inherited from his maternal uncle, and Ozorne from his mother's brother. Some argued that if Kaddar's nephew Gazanoi, named for his grandfather, inherited, it would mean precedent. Some women like the thought, since it would ensure matrilineal succession—one parent was certain, at least. But Kaddar and Kalasin wanted a traditional Eastern succession, though they were in the Southern lands. The crown and scepter would pass from father to son, not uncle to nephew, but there had to be a son first…

Kaddar had been jokingly trying to convince his wife that she was still by far the most beautiful woman in the world. Kalasin—Kally, she had told him to call her—was self-conscious, but the early morning nausea from the first three months was over. She was finalizing plans to celebrate her twentieth birthday; Varice was handling most of the details. They were reviewing the guest list when she flinched and laid a gentle hand on her abdomen. "I think I just felt the first flutter." She sounded awed.

He had wanted to touch her belly (why hadn't he skipped the meeting to be with his wife??), but it had been late, so they had hurried to dress. He left first because she was having some difficulty with her jewelry and dress. Her hands had swollen thanks to the pregnancy (along with her ankles), which made her rings and shoes extremely painful. She had taken the jewelry off to sleep. Kaddar had frowned, but his ordinarily serene wife was cranky with her discomfort, so he let it go.

'WHY?' He demanded of his memory. 'I KNEW better. Why didn't I tell her to put the rings on the chain around her neck? Why, why, why? Why did I allow her to risk herself and our child? Why did she risk our baby?' He shied away from that train of thought…it wasn't Kalasin's fault, it wasn't his fault, it was the fault of the mage who sent the spell. But it was the Iliniats' fault too, probably. Her fault, for disobedience. His fault, for lenience. Their fault. A little.

They had gone their separate ways for the day. He hadn't even kissed her goodbye. (He forgot some mornings when he was in a rush, or felt awkward. Why? How could he ever forget to kiss the most beautiful woman in the world?)

She hadn't shown up for the light lunch, but she had warned him that she might not be able to get away from the Ladies' meeting. He'd gone back to their suite (thank all the gods for that, even though he'd been fuming at them so recently). And she'd been there, on the floor. Where were the guards? They were waiting outside the door, of course. Because he'd told them not to disturb her. And they were used to her taking mornings off to work in the suite.

She fainted, he thinks. But he remembers (and the memory makes him feel almost violently sick) that she was crumpled on the floor, her wide skirts around her like the petals of a peony, fallen under its own weight. And there was blood, which stained the image. He'd seen just a dot, but he'd turned her over and seen the stain (like the morning after their wedding day, but so much worse).

He had screamed then, and a guard ran for a healer, and the guards knew that they were not to disclose the reason on pain of death (Kaddar didn't know that he had looked capable of murder at the moment he issued the order).

The healer had cut Kalasin out of her corset and clothing and bathed her, but by then, it was far too late for the baby. It was barely in time for her. They would've let her body heal itself through sleep, but they were afraid the sleep might deepen to an endless dreamtime. Wakeflower was applied. Kalasin woke in time to behold the blood that stained her thighs. When she met his eyes, she looked fragile and frightened and confused and so broken he could not bear it. Kaddar tried to breathe to control the emotion at the memory of her lively face so still and pale.

When she met his eyes, he saw knowledge enter them. She knew, suddenly, why he insisted on guards and spells and protection. She suddenly believed that evil existed, that malevolent forces were directed against her personally (many years later she confessed that she'd begun to think men could be evil during the siege of Pirate's Swoop, but after the kraken saved them, she had believed that she was protected and favored by the gods, in some ways). The fact that someone evil had violated the sanctity of her womb, of her body, shook her faith in the nature of the essence of men.

The pain and the pleading in that expression broke Kaddar. He had turned away and wept. And Kalasin had fainted again. The healers had drawn a little blood, to test for sure, but they all knew that the heir was lost, and that the Empress's womb would be poison for at least twelve months. No seed would take root in her, no monthly blood would flow, for the duration of the treatment against the curse. And after that? Only time would tell if her body could support life. Her bleeding would be erratic—at different times, in different quantities, of different consistency.

One healer woke Kalasin to feed her the first tea that would purge her system; another gave her a drug to make her sleep. Kalasin did not ask questions about the potions or spells, did not even speak to ask about her husband or her body. She looked around the bedroom with dull eyes, and whether that was from the pain medication or the shock of the loss, no one ventured a guess.

The memory of darling Kalasin's face, pale and frightened, floated in front of him. Her husband whimpered. The blood, the shock of that moment, seeing her skirts and the dark smear… What if he had been later? She'd still been bleeding a little. Would she have bled to death? What if he had been earlier? Could a counter spell have been issued?

Kaddar had sent the guards to find the mage who sent the working. Only three men in Carthak at the present time had the power to send such a spell past all the palace wards; only one could scry through them, wait for an opportunity AND cast the spell. Kaddar knew that the information of the Empress's pregnancy had been kept too closely to spread beyond Carthak—he need not research enemies far from home. Kalasin hadn't even written to her beloved brother and parents; there could have been no interceptions. Kaddar made a fist and bit his knuckle. He could not lose control, not yet. There was still work to be done.

Killing the mage couldn't bring back his child, or his wife's innocence. But it would stop this from happening a second time. And maybe, if there were blood on his hands, he could get lost in that guilt, and forget that he blamed himself. Motion might allay the fear that Kalasin would never be sweet Kally again.

He wasn't in the ugly pit when the mage breathed his last breath. He heard it, though. Heard the hyenas making that odd noise, like evil laughter. Heard the mage's curses, when he realized his Gift could cast no spells past the words. Heard the curses disintegrate. And when the servant who kept the keys to the menagerie looked nauseated, Kaddar declared "So shall all king killers be dealt with in the land of Carthak."

Guards who had been with him since the beginning of his reign shied away from him, as though they were frightened of him. And no matter how fast he moved, he couldn't escape the fear that he lost Kally, lost the man he was with his naïve bride. He'd gained a stranger for a wife, and he'd become a stranger to himself. Kaddar had never kept secret prisoners or jails. He believed that in order to heal from Ozorne's desecrations, Carthak had to become an Empire of law, where a crime in Yamut was punished the same way the same crime would be punished in Siraj. He'd injured his own ideals this night.

Kaddar found drink in the cabinet and poured some into a glass he kept for meetings in here. Hours passed, in this torturous sequence of memory, repeated at different speeds, in different amounts of detail.

Varice entered the office. Kaddar was lying on the short sofa, back to her. There was a bottle of brandy to one side, and a bottle of whiskey to another. Anger sang, but she rapped twice. After he turned to face her she said, "Your Imperial Majesty?"

He looked at her, dull eyed. "You know me better than that."

"I'm not certain that I do, after tonight." Her voice was tight. She was furious that Kaddar would leave his wife at the most fragile moment of her life, abandoning her to assume that he was disgusted by her failure, or that he was taking comfort in another's arms.

"Are you so disgusted with me then? I had to do it." Kaddar poured three fingers of whiskey, unsteadily. He downed the liquid without wincing, which showed Varice he hadn't really tasted it.

Varice thought for a minute, then realized that Kaddar's guards had been absent tonight. They'd been replaced by a pair of young toughs, the likes of whom she hadn't seen since Ozorne's day. She felt ill at the realization. Kaddar had stayed away from his wife's bedside because he sought revenge, not because he was seeking companionship. "Why? If you'd been trying to make an example out of him, you would have sent him to Court, to pay for his crimes publicly."

"He could've struck us at any time. It had to be done." He repeated, slightly slurring his words. "Had to be."

"You're wrong, Kaddar." Varice said. "I've been here since your uncle's time. I never questioned your leadership." She shook her head. "You crossed a line tonight, whether you see it or not. After centuries of abuses of power, you stood for law, for a system that's predictable. You trust your courts to dispense justice. You don't rig them so any dandy can pay a bit and walk away. The peasants are beginning to respect that, even when they don't believe it can last. And tonight you proved the doubters right! You broke the system that enables you to keep your throne."

Kaddar did see it, but he had to argue. "I am on this throne because of the Graveyard Hag. My nobles may help, but—,"

"Mithros, Minos and Shakith," Varice whispered, "Stop it. If you talk about her, you'll bring her down upon us"

Kaddar ignored her to insist, "I defended my family. I did it secretly and fast, but I'm not ashamed. It had to be done."

Varice gritted her teeth. "That's the third time you've said that. 'It had to be done.' Whom are you trying to convince?"

Kaddar rested his elbows on his knees and his face in his hands and he felt his years and the weight of choices. "It's gone, Varice. The baby is gone and it's a year before we can try again and we can't tell anyone that our security was breached and I don't know how she'll live through this."

Varice sighed. "You'll both get through this. The first step is to put away those bottles and swear not to touch them for at least a season. You're going to dry out and then you're going to sit with your wife. You're going to tell her you don't believe it's her fault, and that you aren't disgusted by her, and you're going to act like a husband, not a teenager denied a treat."

"When did my hostess become the only advisor who stands up to me?" Kaddar wondered. He couldn't say, 'What if I can't tell her I don't blame her? What if I do blame her?'

"The men are still in bed. It's the reason you should have women other than your Empress on your Council."

"Stop should-ing me." He ordered.

Varice approached the couch and the semi-recumbent emperor. "Can I bring you water?"

"Oh no. I want to be blind, stinking drunk tonight. I want to be so drunk I can't remember why I'm drinking. And tomorrow I want to lie in a dark room and groan a little, but do nothing more strenuous. I want to vow to never drink again and I want to wake up questioning where my clothing is."

Varice pursed her lips. "Just so long as you don't lose your clothing to…someone unexpected in your stupor."

"Can't, when there's been too much drinking." Kaddar reminded her. "It doesn't work that way." He considered his lap with the attention only a drunk understands.

Varice sighed, because he wasn't in any shape to speak to Kalasin. "I'm going to fetch a pallet for you at least. You don't want to have a hangover on that couch."

"Varice," Kaddar whispered.

"Yes?"

"Thank you for telling me the truth."

Varice hovered. She wanted to say "always" and she wanted to say "I will never stop" but she could only say, "I am sorry about the baby."

"Me too." Kaddar agreed in a whisper.

Varice returned with the pallet, and then she stayed with him throughout the night, to make certain he didn't die of the drinking.

A maid saw "that pretty Miss Kingsford what doesn't wear a veil" leave the emperor's office, shortly before Kaddar, the next morning. The empress didn't show her face for weeks, and it became known that the emperor and empress were keeping separate beds. The gossip mill began to whirl these hints of scandal together into an ugly tapestry, unchecked by the Emperor's sisters or mother, all of whom were publicly mourning Princess Aaminah and her child.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Songs from within the Gilded Cage Ch 3/4

Author: Kate

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.

Summary: Kalasin has news for Kaddar. A marriage faces its most serious tests to date via a pregnancy and a miscarriage. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar

Chapter 3

Kaddar woke in the suite that was now his and his alone, reaching across the bed for Kalasin. There was something incredibly comforting about wrapping his body around her in the night. He was still sleeping on "his" side of the bed, and reaching for her, though they hadn't shared a bed for weeks.

After the miscarriage, the healers had said that Kalasin needed peace and quiet. His things had been moved into the suite he originally intended to give to her. It was comfortable, but it wasn't home. Kaddar was starting to realize that without Kally and her sparkling blue eyes and her quick smile, no place would ever be home again.

But Kalasin's eyes weren't sparkling anymore. It had been two weeks, and she hadn't really left their—her—suite. Or even her bed, except to use the privy. She ate and drank little (only what Kaddar and Varice and the healer sent and bullied her into consuming). They stood over her and coaxed her into drinking medicine and a little broth; she obeyed, just so they would go away and let her sleep.

She was so tired, so sad. All she could do was sleep; she didn't want to get out of bed. She didn't want to bathe and put on a happy face or be brave and persevere. She wanted to act like a child denied a toy or sweets, she wanted (a little) to throw tantrums and scream her pain and frustration to the heavens. But tantrums required so much effort, and she really was so very tired. It was easier to close her eyes, and think about doing something when she was a little stronger.

Matters stayed like that for another two weeks, partially affected by sleeping drugs and cleansing potions, partially by a depression that Kaddar had never imagined possible for his wife. Those weeks became a period that was burned into Kaddar's mind as the closest to hell that he would every really remember. He was sure there had been times after Ozorne's transformation that were worse, but he had blocked them out or survived them by working. This he couldn't avoid, as much as he wanted to. He felt guilty for his discomfort, but he hated the sickroom, hated the thought of confronting Kalasin's blank stare.

Despite his own feelings, Kalasin's husband (who was beginning to realize how much he loved her) visited her three times a day. Sometimes he tried to talk to her, sometimes they just sat together, and sometimes he convinced her to eat just a little broth.

After the second week, when the healers topped feeding her potions for pain or sleep, Kalasin grew tired of sleeping, and a little restless, but not restless enough to get out of bed. She was sick of the paintings and the curtains. Every small thing about the room that had once annoyed her suddenly seemed to fill the world.

Three weeks after her body failed her, Kalasin hauled herself out of bed. She could not say why, but it was absolutely necessary to switch the painting of the dog and the painting of the University door. The effort left Kally dizzy, so she sat on the floor and suffered through flashes of hot and cold. The blood in her ears pounded uncomfortably. She concentrated on breathing—in and out, in and out. And eventually, she began to feel a little more normal. She crawled back to the bed and, unable to climb up into it, pulled a blanket down to her level to reward her effort with a nap.

Fazia, Kaddar's mother marched in and pulled the blankets off her sleeping daughter-in-law. "Get up," She ordered, all imperial glory.

Kalasin blinked sleepily at her, "What do you know about it?" She mumbles, not believing her own boldness.

"You are not the first woman to lose a child to Court games, and you won't be the last. I've lost three—one from my womb, one in the cradle and one fully grown."

This is how Kalasin learned that Aaminah, Kaddar's sister and Kalasin's first friend in Carthak, is dead. Tears began to leak out—they come easily these days, even though Kaddar tries to shield her from the world. "Her baby?"

Fazia didn't answer directly, only pulled at Kalasin's arm. "Get up, girl. You can't lie here forever."

"I can try." But Kalasin allowed her mother-in-law (surprisingly strong, for a "delicate" lady) to wrestle her into a chair. Kalasin asks dully, "How did you know?"

"These rumors? Ridiculous. As if my son… You weren't hiding your head over that. You've got more pride than that."

From Fazia, these words are not a compliment.

"And the dress fittings and the mood swings and the food cravings and the healers? You've been trying for an heir since you arrived. I put the puzzle pieces together."

If Kalasin had been more alert, she might've asked, "Rumors?" But she was not alert, so she did not learn the Court's surmise about Varice and Kaddar for some time. Fazia relented after she forced Kalasin to walk around her chamber three times. The Empress all but collapses into bed, weeping at her ruined muscles, which barely kept her upright.

Fazia returned the next day, and the day after. She and Kalasin do not like one another, but they grieve together, for Aaminah and her baby, and for Kalasin's little life. Kalasin knows that her grief is out of proportion to the injury, but she is bone weary. She has pushed herself to the edge with the work of governing, sprinting longer than she can endure. She weeps for the losses, but she could've endured it more stoically if she had had any reserves of energy or food left.

The recovery was slow, and painful. Eventually, she decided to leave her suite. Fazia had encouraged her, but it was Kalasin's choice. Kaddar had told the court that she was suffering from a sudden, and vicious attack of fever, so no questions were asked as the guards hovered behind her, and even supported her on the stairs. There were rumors of course, that the emperor had taken a lover, and sent the empress into a jealous fit. She looked haggard, and couldn't really hold extended conversations, but it was in some way good for her to see people other than Kaddar, her mother-in-law, the healers, and Varice. And it was good for the court to see that she truly had been sick, that she had not been hiding her shame over the rumors about Kaddar.

Fortunately, Kalasin was unaware of the rumors of Kaddar's lover. A vague suspicion lurked, but it was quickly quenched, until she finally heard from her hairdresser, on the night of her first Court function since the tragedy, that Kaddar spent the worst night of her life with Varice.

The empress assumes the worst. She is almost silent that night at the function, and people wonder about the fever that struck only one woman and altered her so completely. Her sparkle is missing, as is her interest in her people. She cannot speak her accusations, but she feels them every time she looks at her husband and friend. The two visitors she permitted during her confinement, the two who coaxed her to eat enough to live, that these two would betray her is almost unthinkable.

And yet, Varice Kingsford never left the Emperor's court, despite ample opportunity. She has had offers, and lovers, but she seems to like managing the parties here. How she can prefer this to a home of her own always baffles Kalasin, but she took it good naturedly, till this doubt crept upon her. Could Varice have stayed for Kaddar? It seemed ridiculous. She is older than he, too much so for love, Kalasin hopes. But sex is not always about love. If he took release from Varice, without loving her, is that better or worse than a long-standing secret affair between beloveds?

Kalasin has observed that Varice is allowed to speak her mind freely, while others must choose their words carefully. She remembers Daine's story about the night the mages lifted the party boats, when Varice hushed the heir as though she had the right. He has many sisters—he is comfortable with bossy older women. Their relationship is somewhat sister-brother, but not. Kaddar swears that he has been faithful, but how can his wife trust him? A man who would break a vow could lie about it too, couldn't he?

The worry is driving her to distraction, until Varice comes to her to tell her about the violence Kaddar did in secret. Kalasin understands with brutal clarity her husband's distress. Kally, who he married, would have been horrified that murder was done in her name. Kalasin, the harder woman who should be a mother by now, is not grieved. She feels little joy, but she does feel safer in a world without whoever cast the spell. It takes time before she chastises herself for that line of thinking—the mage didn't cast the spell for his own benefit. They have no way of tracing the mage's money back to its source. There is no way to punish the ones who were truly responsible, the ones who may still work against her and her heirs.

Kalasin cried the first time she saw a baby, and she cried when she saw pink and gold dresses (like the one she had been wearing that day), and she almost choked when the cook served her old favorite breakfast, which was forever tainted because it was the last meal before she lost her child.

She and Kaddar did not speak aloud about their loss—he because he didn't know how to begin and she because there were no words to fill the empty place inside of her. But about two months after, he came to bed and simply held her all night long. She knew then the reason he had stayed away. He had done murder without giving fair trial. It wasn't even an execution. There was no honor in a death at the jaws of wild animals. In some lights, it made Kaddar little better than a thug, who took justice on his terms. But in another light, it showed how human and how prone to human failings he was.

Kaddar and Kalasin did not make love for almost four months after she lost the baby (and despite temptations, Kaddar was faithful to their vows, with a little help from Varice, who chased away opportunists, and who didn't really want to make the Emperor her lover). After the first time their bodies joined, Kalasin wept into a pillow because even that didn't dislodge the void.

Kaddar lay on his side, listening to her tears, and felt as though he had just soiled their bond. Even the wedding night, when Kalasin had mostly laid still, trying not to tense, had been better than her weeping. He was glad, suddenly, that they were not sharing to same bed every night. But when he woke up, with her curled against his back, he had a momentary flash of what their lives had been, not so long ago.

And then he allowed himself the luxury of real tears.


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Testing the Cage Ch 4/4

Author: Kate

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: All standard disclaimers apply. They're not mine and I'm not making a red cent.

Summary: Kalasin has news for Kaddar. A marriage faces its most serious tests to date via a pregnancy and a miscarriage. Kalasin/Kaddar, or Kallydar

Chapter Four

The morning after they made love for the first time in four months, Kalasin beseeched her husband: "Take me away from here. I think I can get better, if only I get away from this place and these memories."

Because he was willing to do anything to get Kally back (he barely recognized the frigid, fragile woman in the bed beside him when he compared her to his memory of the naive, sweet girl he had married), Kaddar agreed. "We'll go to our estate in Chelogu. You've never seen it before, but you'll love it. There's a palace overlooking the sea. We'll even arrange for you to go swimming, if you'd like."

"Yes, please." She said, hopefully, though tentatively. "Yes, if you think we won't repeat what happened on our honeymoon."

Kaddar chuckled then, and wished he felt free to tweak a lock of her wavy, lustrous black hair. She was looking more like herself these days—she'd gained back a little of the weight she had lost, and her skin was brighter, her hair less lank. Overall, she seemed healthy "Goddess, what I wouldn't give for a sketch of the Duke's face when he realized which selkie foreigner was taking the water without a veil to cover her face."

Kalasin tried to smile too, but her heart wasn't in it. "You didn't have to face the man across the dinner table that night. I think he managed three words, and those were spoken while he watched a point over my head."

"Only while you were looking." Kaddar told her. "Whenever you glanced away, he stared. Trying to figure out if I was bewitched or just damned lucky."

"I don't remember that." Kalasin yawned, rather like a cat.

Kaddar watched her stretch and arch, then grab a robe from the edge of the bed and pull it over her nightgown. It reminded him of the first intoxicating weeks after their marriage, when he and Kalasin spent mornings discovering each other's bodies the way a child discovers a new toy. He'd been sleeping like the dead after one of those nights (long days and long nights soothed him into the sweetest sleep he'd ever enjoyed as the Emperor), when Kalasin got the idea to run outside and get her feet wet. She had slipped past the guards—not deliberately, she swore, though he had his doubts—and ran down to the narrow strand. She slipped off her shoes, veil, and gown, and then the Empress dove into the water.

As if swimming alone in the predawn light weren't dangerous enough, the situation got worse.

As far as Kaddar could tell, around the time Kalasin began to come in, Zaimid's father, the brother of Kaddar's father, was outside for his morning walk. The elderly duke had been in bed by the time the Emperor and his bride arrived the night before, and his failing health prevented him from attending the wedding—which was one reason they were visiting.

So the duke had stumbled across the naked-by-Carthaki-standards Kalasin (she was wearing a chemise, but it was wet and didn't do much for her modesty), and been struck by her beauty (as almost every man was). The duke had seen that she was a foreigner, and decided that either she was a runaway slave washed ashore or a legendary sea goddess/Immortal, sent to lure landsmen to their deaths. Either way, the duke thought it meant trouble, so while he tried to menace her with a gnarled finger, Kalasin tried to reason with him over the waves and the duke's unfortunate humming (meant to block the sea witch's song, which would tempt the duke to his drowning death).

By then, Kaddar was used to Kally waking up and leaving the bed first, but he'd never witnessed her panic. He rolled out of bed, looking around the suite to find her. Failing that, he opened a window, and heard voices and the surf. Then, clear as day, and he never could explain how, he heard Kalasin's voice, as though they were side by side. At the sound of her raised voice, he'd run out to see what was the matter—but he was still wearing what he'd been wearing the night before—namely, his nose button, ring and earrings. Kaddar's most loyal guard followed the streaking Emperor to the beach, convinced that all Chaos was breaking loose.

On seeing the duke shouting a song, Kalasin crouching in the surf, and her gown and veil floating away in the wind, the Emperor had run down the beach to explain to his laughing bodyguard that summoning the house guard was completely unnecessary, because the new and jealous husband didn't want to gouge out the eyes of every man who saw his wife. And then Kaddar realized that he was wearing significantly less than his wife.

It was a moment Kyprioth, capricious trickster and god of the sea, could not have planned better. For all the Emperor knew, the god might have, though he was allegedly rather busy in the Copper Isles.

At the eye gouging, Kalasin had protested, the duke had turned his back, and Kaddar had thrown Kalasin's gown to her. He covered himself with her veil (it was a bit sheer for his tastes) and tried to look Imperial and dignified, while holding a piece of tulle over his manhood. Nothing like this had happened to him since his drinking days in the University, before he'd been declared heir. He felt like a fool. Kalasin covered herself and emerged, dripping and giggling, to make the honored duke's acquaintance. She curtsied to him, as regally as if they had been at court and her in her finest garb. At that point, the bodyguards had retreated, before they lost their positions for howling in mirth.

The poor Duke, who remembered well the fate of men who had committed far lesser offenses against Ozorne, his brother's brother-in-law, was flushed and trembling. The Empress apologized humbly for confusing him, thanked him for the use of his beach and his hospitality, and allowed her husband to hustle her away. The pair of them collapsed in their rooms, almost in hysterics about the disaster.

That night at the banquet, Kaddar's uncle had never met Kalasin's eyes. But when the ladies left the men to drinks and cigars, the duke clapped the Emperor on the shoulders and declared. "You're a lucky man. That's a damn fine woman." And Kaddar wasn't sure if Kalasin's physical attributes or her humor and poise had won the crusty duke's approval.

"I know." Kaddar had grinned wolfishly. The other men had nodded appreciatively; if the Emperor had had to sign a treaty that said he would only take one wife, there was little doubt that, based on looks alone, most of the men there present would've put up a good argument for Kalasin. There was something unreal in the union of that hair, those eyes, the exquisite facial features, and that figure… Not that many of them knew personally, but their active imaginations served up a host of possibilities for what lay under the robes and veils. The transparent veils were more a custom or a formality with her—and many of them had seen her face before she adopted Carthaki fashions. So there was great appreciation for even the hint of a ribald comment.

Kalasin hadn't gone swimming for the remainder of their honeymoon, which Kaddar thought was a real shame, because the moment he saw her in the surf, hair loose and wild, eyes alive with enjoyment, trying to reason with an (apparently mad) humming man, the Emperor felt the first stirring of love.

The emotion went deeper than the respect and admiration he had developed for her over their engagement, when he realized she knew her trade. It went deeper than the lust that seized him behind their locked doors at night. It united both, and added a mysterious element, an element of wanting desperately to know what this fascinating person would do next and pleasure in her company.

He was beginning to understand that love wasn't all ballads and beauty. Love was a choice, a habit, and a commitment. Love was a war, sometimes against the self and sometimes against the lover, often against boredom or wandering eyes. It was a struggle to keep something alive and growing when many forces sought to stunt it. It was a battle not for mere passion or happiness—overused words. Kaddar had realized that loving Kalasin was no longer a matter of emotional state; it was as natural and perfect as breathing.

"We can leave tomorrow." Kaddar told her, a bit sadly, because she wasn't the girl who laughed in the waves and she wasn't the girl who cried over letters. She was as good as a stranger to him. And he loved and would fight for the woman he had known, but he was still unsure about this stranger.

"That soon?" She looked mildly surprised.

"I've been thinking a change of pace would be good. Most of the nobles have left the capital for their summer estates—we might as well." Kaddar swung his legs over the side of the bed and sat up. "You planning to leave the room today?" The question slipped out with a bit more judgment than he intended.

"Yes." Kalasin found a cigarette (a dried leaf rolled in a paper) in a bedside chest and lit the end with her Gift. "You mother sent these as a present. I thought I would go and thank her and visit her. Briefly."

"Those things are awful." Kaddar wrinkled his nose and waved a hand at the smoke. He didn't mind the ritual of cigars after dinner (tobacco was a major crop this decade), but he hated to see a woman smoke and he hated the stench of the slender cigarettes.

She inhaled the smoke. "We have seven months to go before my womb can conceive anything. I think my body can deal with a little poison. Besides, it's relaxing."

Kaddar frowned and set his lips. "Do you mind doing that outside, at least? It's impossible to get the smell out. Trust me, I grew up with…Aaminah smoked. So does my mother."

Kalasin exhaled smoke, then stubbed out the cigarette without saying a word. Aaminah had died in childbirth. The four-month anniversary of her loss was approaching rapidly; Kalasin hadn't seen Aaminah's husband, Mbizi, since her own miscarriage. She looked at her husband.

"Mbizi lodged a petition. After his twelve months of grieving are over, he wants to take another wife." Kaddar looked disgusted, "My sister is barely cold…"

"I know." Kalasin said softly, looking at her feet. She paused, then tossed the unlit cigarettes to him. "I won't smoke anymore. Haven't had the time to get into the habit fully, anyway. Your mother gave them to me. Said they're more calming than healer's potions. And less addictive than that one that dulls the pain and makes you sleep. I've slept enough."

He couldn't disagree with that, but he still hated the cigarettes. "And they stink worse than a healer's tea, too. If she asks, tell her I forbade it. She'll respect that."

"And she'll think I'm a good, obedient wife, and exactly what she wants from a daughter-in-law, even though I haven't given you an heir and it's been longer than a year?" Kalasin said, a bit caustically.

"I'm going to bathe." Kaddar announced, rather than continue the conversation. Why was everything so difficult with Kalasin lately? Why couldn't they simply laugh together, like they did before?

He understood that marriage was a choice, deeper than their love, more binding than mere affection, in which it is necessary to support your partner even when you want to take the easy road and leave. That day, marriage was his prison and his order, his reason for being and his reason for doubting.

Kalasin returned to the bed for another half an hour after he left. Every interaction was draining. It had been awkward, but comparatively effortless, before, to wake beside him and to slip away to stretch and exercise.

Kalasin almost groaned at the thought of beginning her morning routine again—her out-of-shape body was going to protest, as it almost never had before. But what was the point of being in shape, really? She had bodyguards to preserve her life, and her looks were meaningless. Kaddar would leave if he decided leave, and stay if he chose that (she didn't really believe he would stay, because who wanted to be married to a failure?). Her subconscious hurled knives and stones at the raw and aching wound that had grown over the void inside her.

It takes another six months before Kalasin convinced herself that her husband really isn't going to leave her; that he wasn't having an affair with Varice Kingsford during Kalasin's depression, that he has forgiven her failure, that maybe he had never blamed her at all.

At that point, Kalasin embraced what she had thought of as her cage—accepted the bodyguards (keepers) and the heavy protective jewelry (shackles) and the clothing (a bird should be brightly feathered) and the Court (the aviary where people come to watch her). She feels glad to be Kaddar's bird rather than a bird during the reign of Ozorne. In Ozorne's aviary, the bars were less visible, so the birds almost forgot they were being kept to please a madman. In Kaddar's reign, the bars are visible, and the cage is gilded prettily, and she chose it. She entered into this captivity on the day the married the emperor. And though she can warble plaintively, she cannot complain. There is no escape from this marriage and this role. Even if the door to her cage opened, Kally would not recognize it, would not know how to exploit the opportunity for freedom.

The gods loved the birds, and so they created trees. Men loved birds and they made cages. She wondered what philosopher or priest or poet told her that, and realized it mattered little. She was not free, but there were no hunters inside her cage. She never went hungry and she did not have to search far and wide for her food. She is not always free to, but she is free from.

So she amuses the observers, as a good caged bird should. She makes pleasant sounds and she visits different perches and she preens her feathers. All the while, the Empress resolves that next time, next time she will protect her little egg and her little nest far, far better. She will keep it secret from the watchers, and she will revel in the safety of the cage, instead of raging at the events beyond her filigreed palace.


End file.
